


Comfort

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1580471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Graduation Day is fraught with tension, but Aubrey finds comfort from the only person she can truly trust other than herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haywire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haywire/gifts).



> author's notes coming soon...

Aubrey graduated in the top one percent of her class. That's no mean feat, given that she had to deal with so much prejudicial favoritism for the other students. Bardon's not an Ivy League school, no, but she studied hard and got good grades. She did well on her LSATs and she got accepted into Harvard Law School, so they can all just go to hell. She's worked her butt off to get where she is and I'm super proud of her.

"Chloe? Where are my new black nylons? I need them or I can't get dressed."

With a practice borne of knowing and living with Aubrey now for almost eight years, I breeze through the apartment to pluck up the package of nylons from the kitchen counter where she'd dropped them when she came home last night in a frenzy of panic and excitement.

"Chloe? Did you hear me? I need my new black nylons!"

"I have them right here, Aubrey," I say as I walk into the bedroom, fighting the urge to chuckle at her freak-out in action.

She rips them from my hand, fumbling to tear the packaging open. After a moment, I take them back, setting them aside to pull her into a hug. She struggles initially, of course, as she always has. This is just another sign of her attempts to keep control of herself, something she still does far too often.

"But I need to--"

Instead of words, she is cut off by a kiss. It's gently insistent, just as I've always had to be with her. It's all that will get her attention when she's like this. She resists for a few seconds, then sags against my smaller frame, but I'm ready to hold her up like I always have. As she relaxes against me, I let one hand move up to massage at the back of her neck under her hair.

"You just need to relax, Aubrey," I murmur against her temple. "You know that you're going to be fine tomorrow, right? You've got this." She shakes her head, clinging to me more tightly. "Yes, you do. You have been practicing and planning for this day for three years now. You worked your ass off and you deserve this honor."

She nods slowly, a shudder rippling down her spine, but she grips my shoulders more tightly. Round one has just extended into round two. But I have faith that we can do this.

*****

"And so, my fellow graduates, if we can take anything with us as we venture out into the wide world around us, it's that we each have within us all the encouragement and support we need, but it takes other people to make that support manifest. So do your job, but don't be so utterly consumed by it that you shut yourself off from what's important in life. Thank you and congratulations. You deserve to celebrate."

The auditorium erupts into applause and a few hoots and hollers, but all I can see is Aubrey as she scans the crowd. She's been trying to find me, but her class isn't small, nor is the mass of family and friends attending the ceremony. The second she finds me, I can feel it. It's a physical caress, combined with a jolt of relief along the nerves. I doubt anyone else notices the tremor in her hands as she gathers up her papers and heads back to her seat, but that's okay. They all see the self-possessed woman in control of her life and her surroundings.

The rest of the ceremony, the rest of the speeches, fades into a blur of too many words and too many bodies pressed into too small an area for too long. And then they finally start reading off the names of the 2015 graduating class of Harvard Law School. I find myself getting antsy for her name to be read off. My hands grow slick with anticipatory sweat and I fumble the camera twice before I can find a tissue in my purse to wipe them dry and refocus the camera for Aubrey's walk across the stage to prove her degree.

"Aubrey Janette Posen."

She walks up those steps and across the stage to receive the symbol of her graduation, shaking the dean's hand and smiling brightly. As she continues past the other woman toward the far steps and, eventually, her seat, she turns to find me again. Relief washes over her in that split second that she allows her vulnerability to surface, that smile growing broader.

*****

"Come on, Aubrey."

My arm is around her waist, guiding her up the stairs to our apartment. We really should have taken her father up on the offer of staying in the hotel where the post-graduation celebration was going on. Aubrey was just too set on proving to General Posen that she's always in control. Despite this fact, or perhaps _because_ of it, she still drank more than she should have. Thankfully, no one noticed but me. Most of them really don't know what to look for. They don't try to look past the bravado and the bluster.

"Chloe? I need to sit down for a minute."

We've finally surpassed the final step. Now it's just a matter of traversing the fifteen feet to our apartment door. We can do this; I know, deep in my soul, that we can go farther if necessary, but I don't want to push it. I just want to get her to the safe familiarity of our home for the last three and a half years.

"No, honey, we're almost home. _Then_ you can sit down. In fact, as soon as we're inside, you can sit on the floor and let the wall hold you up, if you think that'll help."

She pouts at me, then turns suddenly to sloppily wrap both arms around my neck. "I didn't thank you." A lazy smile spreads across her alcohol-slackened face. "When I gave that stupid speech, I should've thanked you. I'm sorry, Chloe."

I shift our positions slightly to shuffle backward toward our door, pulling her along with me. "You don't have to apologize. Thanking me shouldn't be part of your commencement speech."

"No, silly!" She giggles then and turns to lean against the wall to the left of our door. "Not that one. The one at my father's party. You know, the one where I thanked everyone for what they did to get me to this point, even _Beca_ , but not you. I'm a terrible girlfriend."

I get the door open and struggle to get her inside. "You're not a terrible girlfriend, Aubrey. You've been under stress. Two entirely different things, and I get the distinction. I know you're grateful for my support. Let's just get you into bed. We can talk about this tomorrow, okay?"

"Don't leave me, okay?" Her grip around my neck again is tighter this time, those tremors of fear hitting her hard. "I'm not sure I can be alone with my thoughts right now."

"Not going anywhere without you, Aubrey," I reply, brushing my lips against hers. "That's a promise you can count on."

We're silent as we make our way into the bedroom. In fact, neither of us speaks until after we've gotten changed and crawl into bed. In a rare show of vulnerability and trust, she curls into my side, head resting over my heart.

"What would I do without you, Chloe?" she murmurs, a slight smile lighting up her face again as she snuggles closer. "You always know what to do to make me feel safe and powerful."

"You're welcome."

Her only response is a soft snore. And the world is right once again for Aubrey and me.


End file.
